Dead Man's Party
by Finn21
Summary: Set months after LITB, Logan throws one last party in his old home. Veronica and Duncan attend. Reluctantly. LV


**Title:** Dead Man's Party

**Author:** Finn21

**Pairing/Characters: **Logan/Veronica, Duncan

**Word Count**: 2,825

**Rated:** R

**Spoilers: **Through 1x22

**Summary:** Set months after LITB, Logan throws one last party in his old home. Veronica and Duncan attend. Reluctantly.

**A/N: **I was inspired by the many talented authors in this fandom to give it a go. So here we are with my first shot. Feedback is very much appreciated, whatever it may be.

_Going to a party where no one's still alive_

The smell of booze and sex hits her senses the second she sets foot inside his house. Bad 80's music reverberates through the expensively decorated walls and up into the bottom of her feet, but she steadies herself and walks forward. Duncan is by her side as she makes her way into the crowd, and she briefly wonders what he's thinking.

_Why are we here?–_could be the answer. It's definitely what she's thinking, but she doesn't say that out loud. And neither does he. And so they continue to walk farther into Logan's mansion, or what's left of it.

From every corner of the first floor there are groups of people bunched together like cattle. Drinking, dancing, laughing, dropping X, making out. It's pretty normal behavior for a 09'er party. Except Veronica doesn't see Logan anywhere, and although she realizes it's ridiculous not to wonder where the host of his own party is, she still feels guilty actively searching him out when Duncan's right by her side.

She glances up at his face and he smiles down at her sweetly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. They tread into the kitchen where Dick is doing Wild Turkey shots with an already wasted Beaver. He spots Veronica the instant she walks in and a slow, almost satisfied grin crosses his features.

"Well, if it isn't the return of Trailer Trash. Or would that be Trailer Trash Redux? My bad," he sneers, and Duncan glowers at him.

"Don't even star–

"It's not worth it Duncan. i He's /i not worth it," she breaks in, rolling her eyes and placing a hand on his chest to keep him from starting something as stupid and cliche as a fight.

Dick's eyes are heavy lidded and his cheeks are flushed a bright pink. But despite Veronica's dig he manages to keep the grin on his face intact. His eyes slide over her figure for a long moment before he pushes himself off the counter he was leaning on and ambles forward.

"Logan's upstairs," he says plainly, his smile all teeth and no lips. Veronica thinks she can hear him laugh as he stumbles out of the room, but she can't be sure. Instead she leans farther into Duncan's side and blows out a frustrating breath.

"Want something to drink?"

"Huh?"

"I asked, if you wanted something to drink," Duncan mutters with an intent gaze. Veronica's mind involuntarily retreats to memories of other parties, with other drinks, and other feelings that should better be left untouched. But apart of her can't let those memories go, not even now. Not after all this time. When she doesn't think about it, when she makes herself forget-- being with Duncan is okay– it's perfect first kisses and fantasy prom nights with beautiful corsages all over again. It's like an alternate universe where she lives a happy, normal existence where pain and heartache have never tarnished her. And it's so easy to fall back into what she used to be familiar with, that it scares her sometimes.

But when she does let herself remember things over the past year and a half, things that have happened with Duncan... his hands on her body don't feel comforting or familiar. They just feel wrong.

_Leave your body and soul at the door . . ._

Veronica shakes her head no when he asks her for a drink and Duncan purses his lips together in a tight smile. It's the answer he expected. He's not even sure why he asks anymore.

They walk together hand in hand through the thick crowd. Her palm feels clammy in his. He tries to tighten his grasp, to hold onto her even though she continues to slip away. It's pointless. Or maybe it's inevitable and he's fighting a losing war.

"Bathroom," she asks a few minutes later, pretending to be lost.

Duncan shakes his head and points to his right, pretending to give her directions.

But they both know where she's going when her hand finally falls from his.

_Shiny silver dollar on either eye_

It's fitting somehow that she found him this way. Logan's nothing, if not the son of actors', and he definitely knows how to set a scene. She can almost picture him whispering the stage directions in her ear.

_Close up on Logan, a young man in his teens, wearing a muted green sweater and black cargo pants. He has stubble lining his jaw, is disheveled, and weary. We pull back to see that Logan is sitting in a chair in the corner of his bedroom. Laying in his hand is a bottle of Jack Daniels, while an empty glass sits forgotten on the floor._

_Logan's eye's fall shut._

_He rests his head against the back of his chair with an unreadable expression. Then he sits up. He appears weak, but he swings his legs left and stands._

And then he sees her.

_Don't run away, it's only me_

"Veronica Mars, why the fuck am I not surprised," he mumbles out with a twisted smile.

"How are you, Logan," she asks him politely and it makes him cringe. He can't stand the way she's so courteous with him now. Like they're acquaintances or strangers. He'd almost prefer it if she went back to hating him, like before. At least then he knew how to handle her. He knew how to cut her down with his words, sharp and acidic.

This new Veronica might as well be a stranger because he doesn't recognize her, hasn't for months now. Not that he's been able to pay much attention to anything in the constant fog he's been living in.

"Oh, you know, just dandy. And you," he treads to the window at the far side of his room. He stares out the large window for a long moment, briefly contemplating what it would feel like to jump through it. How the shards of glass might feel slashing into his skin at every angle.

He hears Veronica walk farther into the room and then stop. "I'm fine," she replies to his question, and Logan snorts.

"That wasn't very enthusiastic. Let's try it once more with feeling this time."

Heavy breaths fill the silence between them, and then Veronica sighs long and hard, like it's physically draining for her to be here with him. He wants to tell her that she's not exactly a cupcake herself, but he stays quiet.

"Why are you up here by yourself," she asks quietly, almost in an whisper.

Logan turns from the window and takes another swig from the bottle of JD in his hand. He grits his teeth and tries to focus on the small blonde haze in front of him. "I got bored with the little people," he shrugs, nonchalantly. "Plus drinking by yourself is just so trendy these days, and it really fits that whole alcoholic profile I've got going on, don't you think?"

Veronica reaches out to take the bottle from him, "I think maybe you've had enough," she says sternly, and Logan can almost hear a trace of the old Veronica in her voice. Or maybe the new Veronica. He can't remember anymore. Only that she was his Veronica for a short time, and he wants that back. But he'll never admit it. He can't.

There's Duncan, and there's Lilly, and there's his father, and there's a million other reasons that they shouldn't be alone together in his room right now, but he doesn't give a fuck. Because as much as he hates this new/old polite Veronica, she's still Veronica. And he needs this...her. If only for a moment. He needs to feel awake again. Instead of this empty shell of a human he's become. A man dying alive.

Her hand on top of his, ignites his flesh. His brain goes into overdrive and he whips his arm away before she can get any closer, cradling the bottle of alcohol close to his chest. His stumbles over his feet and tries to find something to steady himself with. "Ah, ah, ah, Veronica," he waves his finger in the air. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's a bad idea trying to take booze away from a drunk? We don't like it much."

She flinches at his words, but brushes them off quickly. She knows, and he knows she knows that, that was a foolish attempt to sting her. Except he's pretty plastered, and everything feels like it's coming out in jumbled waves.

"Fine," Veronica places her hands in front of her in defeat. "Then hand me the bottle and it can be your choice, instead of mine."

Logan taps his pointer finger clumsily against his chin for a second, contemplating. "Um, no. But thanks for playing.," he reaches his bed and slumps down on it, taking another drink. His eyes following her blonde form. "So how are you enjoying the festivities? The one last hurrah in Aaron's name before he becomes the next dead man walking?"

Veronica meets his eyes at this, her brow furrowing. "Your dad didn't get the death sentence, Logan."

"I know. I was there. But he might as well have...," he trails off, and he watches Veronica's face go from confused, to understanding, to sympathetic.

"Come downstairs with me," she breathes a beat later, walking up to the bed. He can smell the jasmine in her perfume, can the feel the heat of her body close to his. It's a struggle for him not to reach out and touch the tips of her fingers.

"Say hi to Duncan," she adds then, and it's like a splash of cold water on his crotch. He rolls his shoulders involuntarily and takes another drink, before pushing off the bed. He needs distance.

"Tsk tsk, Ronnie. You know that wouldn't end well. DK hates me now. Or didn't you get the memo?"

"He doesn't hate you."

"Does it matter?"

She sighs again, and he knows she wants to lay into him. She wants to push him, like he's pushing her. It's second nature now. She can't deny it, even though she's trying and it's a battle Logan enjoys watching.

"Will you come downstairs with me," she blows out frustrated, her gaze following his every move.

Logan considers the question, desperately wanting to give her the answer that she desires. If only to see her eyes light up for a brief moment. To see that smile he never sees anymore grace her pretty face. But he won't, and he knows it before he even speaks.

"No. But I will have another drink," he raises the bottle up in the air in salute and Veronica grimaces.

"Okay. Have it your way," she turns to leave, glancing back at him once more. Despite himself, Logan looks up and focuses on her eyes. He sees more emotions reflecting back at him than he knows what to do with. And he realizes if he lets her leave now, she might not come back. And he might drown in his own misery alone. He'll always be alone. He understands this. It's his fucking destiny. But right now, Veronica is giving him a choice and he's too weak to let her go.

"I miss you."

She freezes as his words hit the air. She's not even sure she's heard him correctly, or if she just imagined he said it. When she turns around, he's staring at her like a man falling, and she doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know how to save him...or herself.

"Logan..."

He treads toward her, dropping the bottle in his hand on the way. Brown liquid spills onto the carpet in an uneven circle. "I try to make it go away. But it won't," he mumbles, coming up right in front of her, his body inches from hers. His breath tickling the naked skin of her collarbone.

"It won't."

Veronica swallow's hard, against the intensity she sees in Logan's eyes. The volatile personality that could explode at any time. She looks up and sees the light flutter of his eyes lashes. Her attention wholly concentrated on the dark flecks of silver glittering in his eyes. "Maybe you just need to try harder," she responds lamely, and he steps forward, his mouth barely touching hers.

"Maybe," he breathes softly, pressing his body into hers. Veronica takes a step back until her side hits the open door jam. She thinks she should probably walk out of his room right now. She should go back downstairs where there's people and distraction and no Logan. But then he thrusts his tongue into her mouth and she can't think of anything else.

_Don't be afraid of what you can't see_

At night, in the dark shadows of his room her skin is pale pearl and soft as velvet. He runs his fingers across her face, rubs his thumbs over the plump flesh of her lips, and into the silky mane of her golden locks. Her head arches back as he pulls tightly onto her hair and she gasps when his mouth touches wet and hot against her neck.

"Veronica," he says, as if it's a command instead of plea, tightening his tangled grip in her hair. She moves the hands that were wrapped around his back, placing them at the nape of his neck and roughly pushing him to her. Their lips crash together. Burning tongues wrestling with each other. Fighting for dominance.

"Veronica," he breathes into her mouth and she pushes against him harder, touching him wherever she can.

"Veronica," her name on his lips is almost a strangled cry this time, and it causes her to still in his arms. He can't stand to see the pity that clouds her features when she looks at him for too long. So he presses his mouth to hers once more. His hands fall from her cheeks to brush lightly across her shoulders and then her breasts. She shudders and lets out a low moan that makes him smile into their kiss. This reaction, he can deal with.

He traces the edge of his fingertips along the bottom of her shirt, where the creamy expanse of her tummy is peaking out underneath. The thought crosses his mind that he should tread carefully here, not push too soon too fast. But he's pulling her shirt up and over her had before his mind can truly process what he's thinking.

His hands quickly go back to her laced covered chest, each hand cupping the warm flesh in his palms. He squeezes tightly and hears another excited gasp escape her mouth. It's the most satisfying sound he's ever heard. Lilly would moan, occasionally sigh, but she'd never let out these surprised gasps like Veronica. It was as if she'd already experienced it all, she'd learned all of the tricks and now it was just like playing an old card game by heart.

With Veronica it's different. To her, everything seems new. Every touch, every bruising kiss, and gentle caress is her first. Their first. And Logan relishes the pure innocence of it all. He thinks if he tries hard enough, he can even pretend that he's right there with her–feeling everything she's feeling.. Moving nervously over her body like an awkward virgin, instead of the experienced seventeen year old he is. In some ways it would almost be easier to play Veronica's role than his. Because no amount of experience can prepare him for this moment.

It's one of the scariest things he's ever done and it's over all too fast, Veronica breathing deeply into the crook of his neck, her tiny body curled up into his, on top of his bed. He's not sure what to say or do next, so he just holds her to him securely, running his hand up and down her back in soothing circles as he tries to clear his fogging brain. It's a long time before either of them move, and just as Logan feels sleep beginning to take him over, she stirs in his arms.

"Don't leav–," he starts to say, but she leans down and presses her lips to his lightly, silencing him.

This was it. This was all he got. He's not supposed to ask for more, but needs her so much it suffocates him to death. He watches her get up from his bed and put her clothes back on, quietly. She's beautiful and ethereal in the early morning light, like a wisp of a ghost, a figment of his imagination. He thinks, if he blinked long enough she might disappear all together, so he keeps his eyes trained on her the whole time she dresses.

When she's done, she glances back at him with a gentle smile, and he turns over. He can't bear to watch her walk away. He can only hope for the day she'll return.


End file.
